Cravings Joick
by sexyjobros
Summary: From childhood, Nick develops a bizarre craving. Joe later uses it to his advantage.
1. Chapter 1

[b]Joe's P.O.V[/b]

I'm not sure exactly when it started- if it even [i]had[/i] a definite beginning, that is- but I think the first time we knew something was just [i]up[/i] was the day Kevin fell off his bike and scraped his knee. Nick was three then. Even though Kevin was eight and was older and claimed to be a lot stronger than us, his lip still quivered and his head tilted back before he cried out in pain, so loud that mom and dad came running within only a few seconds, out of breath and their eyes heavy with fear.

"What happened?" mom exclaims, the spatula she was using to cook dinner with still in her hand as she drops down beside Kevin, daddy following her suit.

"I hurt my knee," Kevin whimpers, salty tears flowing down his swollen cheeks.

"Let me see," mom says, her hand reaching up towards the cut on his knee to examine it. "Aw, sweetie, it's just a scratch. It's not bleeding all that much."

My six year old self stands a few feet away with Nick right beside me, our hands interlocked as we stare curiously at the scene. But when I look down at Nick I see there's something strange in his eyes, something I can't really put my finger on. It almost worries me, this look that he has that I've never seen. It's almost as if he's possessed- and I'd know that because I watch a lot of those types of movies, even though dad told me not to.

And then, before I have a chance to process it, he tiny fingers slip from out of my larger hand and he's on the other side of the grass, standing close beside mommy. She smiles sweetly at him, wrapping her hands around his tiny waist as she lifts him up off the ground.

"Not now, Nicky," she says, leading him back towards the house. "Your brother's hurt."

Nick squirms in her hold and his arms are reaching frantically towards Kevin, slurred words and babbles escaping his mouth even though he's been learned how to talk, so well that everybody that visits us always says how impressed they are. Mom's eyebrows furrow, and she curiously sets him back down on the ground, watching as his short legs sprint back across the grass towards where Kevin and my dad are set.

All our eyes are locked on him, confused as he gazes hard down at the cut on Kevin's knee, his dark brown orbs bright and sparkling with desire. Kevin stays completely still as he slowly reaches down, his chunky index finger swiping up the few drops of blood oozing from the wound, gasps falling from all our lips when he quickly pushes the bloody finger in his mouth, a wide smile spreading across his lips as he pulls it back out seconds later with a loud [i]pop[/i].

"No, honey; that's dirty!" my mom chastises, quickly rubbing his wet finger off on his apron. "That's a no-no, Nicholas."

She swoops him back off the ground and drags him back into the house, screams and wails of protest escaping his throat as he kicks and bangs at her back in a heavy tantrum. She ignores it, and we can still hear his screams once they're out of sight and in the kitchen.

"Dad?" Kevin says, his voice somewhat fearful and his eyes a mix between confusion and worry.

"It's okay, buddy," Dad says, forcing a chuckle to leave his lips as he ruffles Kevin's wavy hair. "He doesn't know any better."

Then, I watch as he helps him up off the ground, after mumbling something about a Band-Aid. He calls for me to follow, and I quickly obey, running after them and back into the house where I can see mom's went back to cooking and Nick is locked in his highchair arms folded, lips pouted and a grape-berry popsicle laid melting in front of him.

That night after dinner, I go into Nick's room to find him sitting on his floor playing with his toy cars.

"Mom says it's time to get ready for bed, Nicky," I tell him.

"I don't wanna," he replies, stubbornly, not bothering to look up at me as he continues to violently crash the tiny model-sized vehicles into one another.

"Nicky…" I warn, folding my arms across my chest and stomping my foot down subtly on the soft carpet to hold my authority. "Mom said [i]now[/i]."

He looks up at me, his not so furry eyebrows furrowed and his innocent brown eyes staring back at me harshly, his curls falling over his face a little. "[i]I don't wanna[/i]."

"Nick!"

"Joe!"

"[i]Nicholas[/i]!"

"[i]Joseph[/i]!"

"Fine!" I give up, knowing that Nick usually ends up getting what he wants anyways. I tighten the hold on my arms as I angrily plop down on the floor next to him, hoping that maybe if I can make him think I'm mad enough he'll do as I say.

Of course, it doesn't help any. He just completely ignores me and keeps playing. After a few minutes pass and still no change, I sigh and place my arms back down at my sides, letting my anger deflate. I watch Nick for a while, noticing the way his small, pink tongue is hanging out of his mouth and how his gaze is so oddly focused on what he's doing, even though I don't think it takes much concentration to crash your toys together until the point of them being permanently broken. It kind of reminds me of what happened earlier, how he seemed to be so entirely grossed on that barely visible cut on Kevin's knee, how his gaze was so unbreakable.

"Hey, Nicky?" I voice quietly, my stomach twisting unsettling when he stops what he's doing and looks up at me again.

"Yeah, Joey?" His tone is soft and without the previous anger he held only a few minutes before. But that's your typical Nicky for ya, never able to stay mad for very long, especially not at me.

"Why did you do that thingy you did today?"

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, his lips puckered slightly as if he's thinking hard about what I'm talking about, thinking [i]too[/i] hard.

"I mean, when you did that thing after Kevin got hurt," I quickly clarify, because I don't want him to hurt himself. "When you…licked his blood."

It sounds weird coming off my lips, maybe because I never would have thought I'd ever be saying, or that I'd ever be asking anybody such a thing because this is definitely not normal.

"Oh," Nick says, his mouth shaped like a small 'O' and his eyes wide and brightening, kinda like how they were outside. Then he looks down again, fumbling with the edge of his too big night shirt and subtly biting his lip with the few teeth he has.

"Well…?" I press, tilting my head in front of his face to try and get him to look back up at me. "Why'd you do it?"

He does what I want and our eyes lock, his cheeks painted a strange pink color. "I don't know."

"Yeah you do," I say, crossing my arms back over my chest. "You know daddy doesn't like you lying, Nicky. He said lying is what bad people do, remember?"

"I'm not lying, Joey!" he insists, his eyes widening again, but this time with fear, as if he's afraid I'm going to run out of the room and tell on him. "I don't know why I did it."

"There has to be a reason."

He shrugs, and then looks back down at his toys. "It tasted good."

I gasp lightly, quickly covering my hand over his too small of a mouth. "Don't say that, Nicky. You heard what mom said…it's dirty."

"I know," he mumbles against my skin. I let go of his mouth. "But it tasted soo good."

Another gasp and I feel like I should do something drastic like get a bar of soap and wash his mouth out like I'd seen this one mom do in this one movie, or make him get down on his knees and pray until he never has that thought ever again. But before I can act, mom comes in and tells me to go back into my room because it's time for bed.

I slowly get up and walk towards the door, but I stand outside of it and watch hard as she goes towards Nick, as if I'm afraid he'll try something.

"Joseph- to bed, [i]now[/i]!" she yells at me, seeing that I hadn't listened to her.

Nick's staring back at me as she walks back towards where I'm standing, a small smile on his face as he mouths, "'Night, Joey."

"Get a move on," she says, smacking my butt lightly as he motions me out of the room. "I'll be there in a minute."

Then she closes the door and I stomp the rest of the way to my room, slamming my door shut and having daddy yell that if I don't quit it he'll come in and [i]really[/i] give me something to slam my door about. I sigh, and plop down on my bed, falling asleep before mom gets there. But I feel her place a kiss on my forehead, before she turns out my light and cracks my door after she leaves out.

That night, the whole house is awoken by the sound of Kevin screaming. Apparently, Nick had snuck into his room and ripped the Band-Aid off his knee, trying to lick at it again.

I sleepily get out of my bed, get down on my knees, close my eyes, and pray for him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Joe's P.O.V**

Nick's weird "craving" for blood only got worse as he got older. None of the doctors could figure it out, none had an exact cause for all this or what they could even call it. And believe me, we went to _a lot_ of doctors, even a few specialists. Most of them figured maybe he had a mineral deficiency, you know like anemia or something. But when they'd prescribed him the pills, told our mom and dad to feed him more iron-enriched foods, and even when he was taking three sets of iron vitamins a day starting at the age of seven and eating so much liver, beef, and spinach until the point of his stomach would swell so big you'd think it'd pop, he still wanted it…he still wanted _blood_.

When he turned ten, my parents got a call from the school saying that a boy in Nick's class had fallen and cut himself pretty badly on one of the open hooks of his binder. Apparently, Nick was the one who initiated it and soon after had gone to work with sucking some of the blood out of his wound- or, as the teacher put it, "acted in a highly disturbing endeavor." He was suspended from school for two days and my mom made him personally apologize to the boy and his parents too, even though Nick claimed he was just trying to help him out and stop the bleeding.

No one bought that.

One day, a while after Nick's fourteen birthday, I walked into the bathroom and found him sucking hard at his arm, a bloody razor laid a little ways beside him and small droplets of blood scattered on the floor near it. He doesn't stop what he's doing when he notices me, and when I bend down next to him and try to pry his arm away from his mouth, I don't know why I'm not more disgusted. Maybe it's because this is Nick and nothing he does could ever disgust me- it's either that, or I'm becoming mentally unstable and need to think about going to see a therapist. But then again, maybe it's just because I'm not surprised.

"Nick, stop it," I tell him, when he refuses to let his hold up. "You're going to end up killing yourself!"

It's already starting to happen, actually. His skin is sweaty and extremely pale, signs that he's losing way too much blood and he really needs to stop _now_. Finally, after much forcing, I end up having to pin his arms down and straddle him, having the advantage of being a lot stronger than he is when he tries to struggle.

"Get off, Joe!" he screams, and I'm suddenly happy we're the only ones in the house. "I _need_ it!"

"No, you don't, Nick," I say, through clenched teeth, surprised that he has as much strength as he does in his state. "You have to stop this!"

"But, I can't!"

He stops struggling and I take it as a truce, letting him sit up but not giving him complete freedom, my hands still holding onto him.

"I can't, Joe," he whimpers, as I reach for the nearest towel and wrap it tight around his arm, applying pressure to the large gash, after deciding that it's not deep enough to need stitches. "You don't understand."

"Yeah I do, Nicky," I try to coax to him, as I wrap my arms around his skinny figure, holding him against my chest.

"No, you don't," he stresses, his brown eyes staring up at me insistently, yet pleading. "You and mom and dad and everyone else act like I _want_ to be this way."

"Well, do you?"

I don't know why I ask, but I feel like I just need to hear it, to get some type of finalizing closure, because the fact of him not actually enjoying it is a lot better than the alternative.

"Of course not," he says, his voice small and tight. "Who wants to be known as the school monster?"

I shrug, and he goes on to add, "You don't think I'm a monster do you, Joe?"

"Never," I tell him without hesitation, my hands running through his hair and resting against his cheek. "You're way too cute to be a monster."

He laughs, but a few minutes later I have to shake him a little to make sure he hasn't passed out when he gets too quiet and his breathing evens out.

By the time Nick turns seventeen, it's obvious the whole obsession that he has isn't going anywhere. Oddly, we all embrace it, or get use to it, rather. The doctors all say that, much to their surprise, it didn't seem to be doing his body any harm. If anything, it's _helping _him in a way, so why continue to deny him from having it?

The only hard thing about it is that by giving in, his craving pretty much turns into a full-blown addiction, and if it's not fed it can get pretty crazy and we've had to take more than enough hospital visits. It's gotten to the point where whenever we go, instead of the traditional blood fusion they just let Nick suck the blood right out of the bags. Sounds disgusting, I know, but after a while it becomes like just another daily sight of life.

Now, Nick and I are sitting in the living room watching a movie, our legs pressed together as we sit close on the couch. He's licking at a cut on his finger, something which had been self-inflicted and if mom and dad ever found out he'd be in a shitload of trouble over. Yet, I sit beside him completely unfazed, my eyes directed towards the TV screen and my arm resting against the top of the sofa beside his back.

"Do you ever think about what my future will be like?" he asks, halfway through the movie.

"What do you mean?" I ask, staring back at him curiously.

"I mean, what girl is going to want to be with me and be willing to deal with _this_?" He motions towards his slicked finger, his eyebrows raised questioningly.

"Oh, come on," I counter, a chuckle escaping my lips. "Is that what this is about?"

"I'm serious, Joe."

"I know you are, but I don't get how that's relevant."

"Are you kidding?" he questions, shifting so that he's facing me more.

"Okay, fine," I give in. "Maybe you're right. But I don't see why it matters."

For some reason, the thought of Nick actually being with someone makes me uneasy, and I wish he'd stop talking about it. Of course, it's natural for him to wonder, though, but that doesn't ease my mind any. I'm extremely protective of him, always have been, and the thought of anyone ever hurting him just can't cross my mind without me mentally freaking out.

"What do you mean you don't see why it matters?" he presses, his eyebrows furrowed. "I don't wanna be alone for the rest of my life."

"You won't," I assure him, looking away.

"How do you know that?"

"Because I just do," I stress, my eyes directed hard at the TV. "Besides, you're too young to be thinking about girlfriends anyway."

"What are you talking about?" he exclaims, indifferently. "You had your first girlfriend when you were fourteen. I haven't even gotten my first _kiss_."

I sigh, mostly faking it because I'm trying to think of something to change the subject with, _anything_. But nothing comes to mind.

"Honestly, Nick, it's not all it's hyped up to be," I say, even though that's entirely not true; my first kiss had, as lame as this sounds, been the best thing that ever happened to me. But _he _doesn't know that.

"No need to mock my intelligence, Joseph," he remarks, and he's using his "you're being a real jerk" type voice. "I'm not _that_ naïve."

I open my mouth to say something, thinking sorry might be the way to go, but then he's rolling his eyes in frustration as if he's had enough of me, and then gets up off the couch.

"Where are you going?" I ask, motioning towards the plasma. "The movie's not over, yet."

"I'm going to ask mom for help," he retorts, before leaving out of the room, having the sense of abandonment wash over me as I sit there alone.

By help he means he's going to ask her- brace yourselves- for some of her blood, something he usually does when he thinks the cuts on his fingers will become too noticeable. The weird thing is, he's tasted everybody's blood in the house- even Frankie's, but purely by accident…or at least that's how Frankie saw it- except for mines. Hell, he's even asked Kevin for help a few times, but not once has he ever turned to me and I don't know why that bothers me so much.

Maybe it's just instincts, how I've never thought twice about going out of my way to fulfill his needs, yet when it comes to this whole blood addiction, the one thing that he honestly can't seem to live without, I've never felt more helpless.

And, weirdly, I'd probably be the most willing. Just from their facial expressions, you can tell the others don't really feel the process to be all that rewarding. I even caught Kevin throwing up one time afterwards. But he's never really been able to handle the whole situation well anyways. But, me…I'd be different, I'd be appreciative that Nick would ever confide in me in such a truly bizarre but at the same time intimate way.

But it's not like Nick could resist if I was the one to initiate it, instead waiting around for him to ask me. It's not like he'd just walk away if I openly held it out to him. At the sight of blood, it's like he becomes a whole other person. As long as you have blood dripping somewhere on you, you could ask him to put on a dress and dye his hair pink and he'd do it…he'd do _anything_.

It makes me wonder just how far I can go with this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Joe's P.O.V**

Nick's still mad at me and he hasn't tried too hard in hiding it, either. But I still plan on putting my idea into full effect, just as soon as I can get the time and opportunity. It's funny really, because I can't seem to get this smirk off my face at the thought of how it'll turn out, but Nick takes it as obnoxiousness and it only pisses him off more.

We're eating breakfast, or rather _I'm_ eating breakfast and Nick is just staring at his bowl of soggy cereal, his eyebrows knitted thick together as if he's thinking way too hard about it. Mom's the only person in the kitchen, since Kevin, Frankie, and dad have long finished their food, and she's working on doing the dishes and wiping down the counters.

"Nicholas, stop playing with your food and eat it," she chastises to Nick, her expression disapproving as she pushes the bowl closer to him.

"I'm not very hungry for some reason," he mutters, and glances up at me as adds to it, "I'm going to go find Kevin."

I roll my eyes because we all know what _that_ means. I ignore the tightening of my stomach when he gets up and walks away, noticing how mom is now staring back at me curiously.

"Is he okay?" she asks, and I so badly want to reply with, "No, he's just being his regular asshole of a self and making me feel even more worthless."

But, instead, I pop a spoonful of lucky charms in my mouth in an effort to stop it from slipping out as I shrug. "Who knows?"

"I'm worried about him," she remarks, as she absent-mindedly stares out the window above the sink, reaching for the dish towel as she goes to dry the wet glass in her hand.

"You shouldn't be…trust me," I tell her, getting up from the table and placing my bowl in the sink with the rest of the dishes, before placing a reassuring kiss against her cheek. "Thanks for breakfast."

Then, I walk up the stairs towards my room, letting the jealously settle in my system involuntarily when I pass by Kevin's shut door, knowing that he _never _shuts it. And what makes it worse is knowing Nick is on the other side of it.

_Hope you're having a jolly fucking time_.

I resist the urge to slam my door, before snatching my IPod off my dresser and plopping down on my bed, quickly setting the headphones in and turning the music up purposely too loud in my ears.

I don't fall asleep until I see footsteps make their way out of Kevin's room, ten minutes later.

"Joe, wake up."

I groan unpleasantly, as I reluctantly open my eyes, Kevin's annoyed facial expression the first thing I see.

"Hurry up," he orders, his hand slapping down on the side of my leg. I groan again, shoving him away from me. "We're going to grandma's house and mom said if you're not downstairs in the next five minutes, she's going to make us spend the weekend there."

No offense to Grams, but I can see why mom would propose that as a punishment. Don't get me wrong, I _love _my grandparents, I really do. Their house is cozy and smells really good, and not to mention we get all the free fruit and vegetables we want, with an occasional ice cream sundae if we behave. But Grandma Jonas has indulged in the traditional way of life, in which she spends her time living on a farm where she grows her own garden and takes care of a few chickens here and there. And there's not much else to do beyond that.

"Alright, I'm up," I assure him, glancing towards the clock on the side of my bed which indicates I slept for little more than an hour.

Kevin leaves, and I go on to change into something more casual, keeping in mind that Grams absolutely despises graphic t-shirts and at the sight of ripped jeans she's goes into a whole rant about how in [i]her[/i] day, people took pride in their clothes and there's no reason that shouldn't apply to the twenty-first century…on and on and on.

After checking out my reflection in the mirror and giving myself the okay, I quickly saunter down the stairs, where my mom is waiting, impatiently.

"Let's go," she voices, motioning towards her watch and holding the door out for me.

Everyone else is already in the car, and when I open the door to sit down in the middle row, I vaguely notice how Nick has switched places with Frankie and has situated himself in the back, as far away from me as possible. I resist the urge to roll my eyes, because he's seriously taking immaturity to a whole new level.

"Everybody ready?" my dad asks from the driver's seat, even though he's already pulling out of the driveway.

He takes the silence as a "yes" and continues on down the street towards grandma's house…and I can feel Nick's eyes burning into the side of my head the entire time.

I don't look back at him.

Grandma's overly excited to see us, just as she always is, even though we come to visit her at least once a week. She gives us all big hugs and sloppy kisses on the cheek, before inviting us in and telling us to get comfortable. She's in the middle of cooking dinner- I can tell- the smell of juicy pot roast and garlic mashed potatoes filling the air around us.

It's not long before she calls us into the dining room, after her and my mom spend a great deal of time setting up the table while my dad takes a phone call from his boss, Kevin and Frankie discuss something stupid as usual, and Nick and I thoroughly ignore each other.

We sit down at the table, and I make an effort to sit beside Nick. But as soon as I sit down, he gets up and moves to the other side, earning a curious glance from mom and dad quickly goes into a conversation about his upcoming promotion as CEO at his company as if he hadn't seen it.

Kevin has a knowing look on his face, but at the same time questioning, one of those, "What are you guys fighting about now?" type looks. I honestly don't know, I answer to myself, dragging my fork along my mashed potatoes and forcing myself to swallow them.

Several minutes into dinner, though, something's obviously wrong. Everyone's attention is directed towards Nick who can't stop shifting in his seat, his face appearing pale and his hands noticeably trembling. All of us- but my grandmother, who is unaware of Nick's "situation"- knows what's going on.

"Nicholas, dear, are you okay?" she voices, immensely concerned. I glance towards my mom and dad, who have suddenly become very engrossed in their pot roast. "You look so sick."

"I'm fine, Grammy," Nick says, leaning out of her reach when she goes to feel his forehead. "I just need some air."

He excuses himself, and then quickly walks out towards the front door. I glance around the table as to nonverbally let everyone know I'll handle it, before I swiftly get up from my seat and follow after him.

He must have ran because he's no where to be found outside. But there's only so many places out here he could disappear to, and it doesn't take me long to realize he must have went into the barn. I run inside of it and stop when I turn the corner that leads into the chicken coop.

"Come on, Nick," I say, noticeably startling him when he quickly jerks around to face me. "Not grandma's chickens."

His eyes narrow, and he stubbornly turns his back to me again. "Go away, Joe."

"No," I tell him, walking up closer towards him. "You can push me away and ignore me all you want, but I won't stand by and let you tamper with someone else's belongings."

"It's _one _chicken, Joe."

"She'll notice," I remark. "And then what are you going to tell her?"

He doesn't answer me. Instead, he remains standing where he is, his eyes gazing towards the coop as if he's about to cry, and then I can't help but feel guilty. I sigh and slowly pull out the pocketknife in the back of my jeans.

"Here," I say, snapping it open and wincing once I slide it hard over the palm of my hand, breaking the skin.

Nick's eyes widen as they instantly direct themselves on the open gash, his breathing audibly picking up. He backs away from me as if he's being threatened with a gun. "Joe…what are you doing?"

"Helping you- what do you think?" I question, somewhat annoyed. But another part of me is begging him, _needing_ him to do it.

I step closer to him, holding my hand out. But he only backs farther away, bumping into the wall of the barn. "Joe, stop."

"Why should I?" I question, stepping even closer. "You want it so bad. I can see it in your eyes."

He squeezes his eyes shut tight, pressing so hard up against the wall it almost looks like he'll fall through it. "_No_."

"Why, Nick?" I demand, my voice rising slightly. "I don't understand. Is my blood disgusting to you, or something?"

I don't mean for my words to come out so harshly, but they just do and I can't help it. I need to know. I need to hear from him why he's doing this to himself, why he's been denying me for this long.

His eyes open, and he quickly shakes his head. "No, of course not."

I push myself to him and practically trap him, my hand reaching up towards his face, right there underneath his nose. I watch as his pupils dilate and his nostrils flare.

"Then, take it!" I say, exasperated. "Just drink it!"

"NO!" he shouts, pushing my hand out of his face and shoving pass me.

My heart sinks deep in my chest, and a thick lump forms in my throat as a familiar burn courses up my nose and to my moistening eyes. Nick stares back at me, his expression sorrowful and his hands balled into tight fists at his sides.

"I-I can't, Joe. I just _can't_," he stutters, his bottom lip trembling. "I'm sorry."

And then he leaves me standing there with my stomach churning and blood dripping down my arm.

I lean over behind one of the hay stacks and throw up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Joe's P.O.V**

I never know Nick is one to get jealous until now.

Usually, he's entirely locked in his own mind, along with any emotion that comes with it, making he seem unattractively flat. Most of the time, I never even know when he's angry about something- unless he has the intent of making it blatantly known- until much later when he feels the need to bring it up randomly through one of our casual conversations about aliens or swimsuits models or how many blackberries Kevin unnecessarily intends on keeping locked up, at which point Nick will interrupt it with something like, "Hey, you know I was mad at you that one time when…" blah, blah, blah.

Over the years, I got used to that. That's just who Nick is, and who am I- or anyone else for the matter- to try and change him? But _this_ is different, this isn't Nick at all, the Nick whose whole demeanor seems to change at the mention of one of my friends- who just so happens to be a girl I have a huge crush on and have not been too hush-hush about towards the rest of the family- is coming to visit. I met her about a week ago at the restaurant where I work and have finally chucked up the courage to ask her over.

Nick frowns and excuses himself from the dinner table at my announcement, the sound of his bedroom door slamming shut a few minutes later that only I seem to notice. Mom is too busy teasing dad about how they might be grandparents soon enough while he just stares back at her playfully disapproving, Frankie is too wrapped up in the PSP he's hiding under the table, and Kevin is too wrapped up in everything else that only involves himself.

My lips press in a tight line as I scrap my fork against the edge of my plate when I think about Nick and how what he's doing is kinda pissing me off. After the incident at Grams' house, things were a bit awkward between us for a little while, but now, just recently, things were starting to be good again with our relationship. He was actually talking to me and even though things weren't exactly the _same_, he was still making progress. And, now, I feel like he's mad at me all over again, for no reason whatsoever.

But after our early dinner is done and over with and the sink is clear of our dirty dishes and mom has put Nick's in the microwave for him to finish eating later, I try not to focus on that. I try to keep my mind solely centered on that fact that the prettiest girl ever is going to be knocking at my door any minute from now and how my parents are going to let us have the basement area all to ourselves and, yeah, I totally feel like a sexy, irresistible thirty year old man with his own bachelor pad and a jukebox that goes with it.

Yet, there's still this urge for me to go up to Nick's room just to check on him and make sure he's okay. But before I can even think about walking towards the stairwell, the doorbell rings and my heart thumps nervously in my chest when I realize she's here. I check my reflection in the mirror and run a slick hand through my hair, before going to open the door.

And _holy-mother-of-God_ she is even more gorgeous than I remember.

"Hey, Joe," she says, smiling wide as I stare back at her with my jaw nearly hung open.

"Hi, Nicole," I reply, surprisingly smooth. I smirk, holding open the door and motioning her inside. "After you."

Her smile only gets bigger and then she brushes pass me and I can smell her perfume as I constantly reminding myself to remember to take a breath every three seconds. "What a gentleman."

I lead her down towards the basement, watching as her blue eyes sparkle under the dim lighting of the empty space.

"Can I get you anything?" I ask, as she takes a seat on the sofa.

She simply shakes her head, smirking lightly as she pats the spot beside her. I smile, taking a seat there and resting my arm behind her against the hard top surface of the couch

"Joe…can I ask you something?" she questions.

I discreetly scoot closer to her, my eyes locked on her plump, pink-glossed lips. "Anything."

"How come you don't have your own house? I mean, with you being twenty and all."

My eyebrows furrow deep and I'm thrown for a bit of a loop because no one has asked me that before. I guess I've never really thought about it, really. But now that's she put it in my head, I can't help but realize that she's right. I'm nearly twenty-one years old and still living with my parents, while other boys my age are discovering the new art of privacy and going through so many one-night stands that they can't keep up. But, me, I'm here…and I can only think of only one reason why.

_Nick_.

Part of me knows I haven't left because I just can't…I can't leave him. Most of my life has been directed towards taking care of him, protecting him, and I've only now realized how much I've missed out on. I can't remember a time I've just hung out with friends and my whole school career I've been discreetly opting out of field trips that last more than a day.

And college…forget about it. The only reason I work as a waiter at some crappy restaurant when I could be managing my own company by now is because I don't have a choice. And as many times as my parents and Kevin and my friends and everyone else in the world has ever asked me how come I'd want to live that life, I always tell them the same thing…_I don't know_.

But, now, I _do_ know. I've dedicated my life to my younger brother, and as many times as he's denied me and hurt me and even though he's never not once said thank you for anything I've ever done for him- for _everything_ I've done for him- I still love him. I'm still here for him. And, dammit, I just can't seem to escape him, even if I wanted to.

"Hey," Nicole voices, breaking me out of my trance. "You don't have to tell me. I didn't mean to pry."

I feel bad now, because she's staring back at me apologetically like all this is her fault, as if she's the reason I'm like this.

"It's okay." Lame, I know, but it's the only thing I can think to say.

Her expression softens, and then, all of a sudden, she's sitting incredibly close to me, even though I can't remember moving. She scoots even closer, her face right in mine, and her hand travelling slowly up my forearm, pressing against my skin. And then it's finally registering in my brain to encourage her on, and it's not long before I'm leaning in, so close that I can smell her coconut shampoo. My lips are tingling in anticipation as the distance gradually shortens between us, her breath tickling the skin of my cheeks, until finally-.

"Joe!"

Startled, I jerk my head towards the basement stairs, unexpectedly seeing Nick standing there, his hands resting awkwardly at his sides.

"What is it?" I ask him, not attempting to hide the bitterness of my tone because he walked in on what was probably about to be the best make-out session of my entire life.

He doesn't answer me; instead, he's just still standing there, his eyes gazing hard down at Nicole. It's almost as if he's possessed, and when I ask him again and he still doesn't respond, it's obvious she's getting incredibly uncomfortable.

"Um, I should probably go," she voices, and I think my heart just about sinks down to my stomach.

"No!" I exclaim, a little too loud, as I attempt to keep her from leaving. "Don't mind him. He's doing this on purpose."

"It's okay. I, uh, have to be somewhere anyways," she says, forcing an apologetic smile. "I'll see you later, Joe."

When she walks up the stairs to leave, she awkwardly goes around Nick, his eyes never removing themselves from her.

"What the hell was that?" I exclaim when she's completely gone.

He looks at me finally, his eyes holding something different within them now, almost as if he's emotionally hurt. "You were going to kiss her."

I blink, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "What?"

"I said you were going to kiss her, weren't you?" He repeats, walking down the stairs until he's standing right in front of me.

"Yeah," I say slowly, because he doesn't really seem to be in his right mind at the moment. "So what?"

"So, how could you do that?"

He almost looks like he's about to cry, and I'm stuck between being angry and feeling bad. But, no, I won't let him play this mind trick on me, not anymore.

"I _like_ her, Nick. People usually kiss people they like," I say, crossing my arms angrily over my chest. "And what the hell does it matter if I kiss her? It wouldn't be hurting anybody."

"Yes it would," he mutters, so low I can barely hear him.

I open my mouth to say something, but he interrupts me, his eyes moist with fresh tears. "I'll never get that, Joe. No girl will ever want to kiss me, not with the way I am."

"So, that means that _I_ can't kiss anybody?" I question, the anger only rising in me. "How can you be so selfish?"

"I don't want to be like this, Joe!" he says, my frustration obviously rubbing off on him. "I don't _want_ to want blood all the time, but I can't help it. It's like there's this burning in my mouth, and no matter how much blood I drink it never goes away."

My expression loosens and I really _do_ feel bad now. I sigh, and stare back at him blankly, my tone softer. "So, what do I have anything to do with all of that, Nick?"

"You're the only one that understands it," he replies, looking back at me hopelessly. "The only one who accepts me."

And then he moves closer, and it's like Nicole all over again, only different…_better_. He cups his hand around the side of my neck and stares directly in my eyes. And just like with Nicole- for some reason- I have to remind myself to breathe.

"I care about you too much," he whispers, my skin tingling in the spot he's touching me. "That's why I don't drink yours."

It happens too quickly after that for me to know who made the first move, and it only takes a second for it to register in my brain that he's actually kissing me. Nick…my brother…a guy…_kissing me_. My eyes are wide and I all can do is stare back at his that are closed as he propels himself forward, harder, rougher against my lips. When he finally pulls away and takes in my expression, his face falls and his eyebrows furrow nervously.

"What's wrong? Didn't I do it right?" he questions, before quickly releasing me from his grip and stepping back into the wall. "Oh god, what was I thinking? I'm so stupid! Joe, I'm so _stupid_! And, oh god, I'm sorry; I'm so so sorry. Please forgive me! You forgive me don't you? I'd understand completely if you'd never talk to me again."

While he rambles on, the only thing I can do is stare down at his lips, the way they move, their shape, their form…how good they felt on mine. At the moment, I chuck it up as mild curiosity when I find myself walking forward and pressing our lips back together, shutting him up. I pull away after a second or two, my hand still resting against the side of his face as he stares up at me, his expression surprised.

He's about to say something, but I lean in again, silencing him one more with the flush press of my lips. I pull away a few more seconds longer than last time, only to have him mimic my action before I get a chance to take in his reaction. When he pulls back, we stare hard into each other's eyes, breathing heavily as if we'd spent several minutes locked at the mouths.

Finally, I sigh, reconnecting our lips for good this time, relishing in the way his mouth falls open for me, the way his body shivers when I snake an arm around his torso and push him up against me. It stays slow and tentative for a while, but then Nick starts to gain more confidence, his lips moving over mine in a desperate haste as I work to keep up.

Pretty soon, we're moving around the wide space of the basement, knocking things over and crashing into the walls. His hands are tugging roughly at my hair and mine are digging bruises into his back, as if we just can't seem to get close enough to each other. Then, our legs end up tangling and we awkwardly trip with me pushing Nick out of the way as I fall forward, crying out slightly when my shoulder blade comes in contact with the glass edge of the coffee table.

There's a huge cut near my collarbone, right by the base of my neck, and I wince when I feel a warm, thick substance gradually gliding down my skin. I sit up and examine the gash, my eyes instantly falling upon Nick once I realize it's bleeding. His eyes are wide and his breathing his wavered as he stares at the wound, his mouth practically watering in front of me.

I smirk, and slide up until I'm sitting directly in front of him, a chuckle leaving my lips when he doesn't remove his gaze.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" I tease, motioning him over. "Come get it."

I had expected him to fight it, go into a rant about how he can't or how he shouldn't. But I definitely hadn't thought he'd jump on the thought so fast when he immediately thrushes forward, a deep gasp escaping my throat when his mouth attaches itself to my neck, sucking hungrily at the open cut.

My mouth falls open and my eyes flutter closed, another gasp escaping my lips when he roughly spreads my legs open and settles in between them to get a better angle. I moan, subtly pressing myself up against him and squeezing my eyes shut tighter as my mind begins to whirl. After a moment or two, his tongue slides against the gash and he pulls away.

"Oh god…" he voices, breathlessly, a small amount of blood dripping down his chin. "That's what I've been missing?"

I smirk, lazily, my eyes half lidded as I stare back at him. "See I told ya."

"…Yeah."

He moans this time when his mouth reattaches itself back to my tainted skin, slowly pushing me down so my back is resting against the floor. His fingers discreetly travel down to my front pocket, pulling out the pocket knife inside as he pulls back to look at me. Swallowing hard, I give him the okay, and then before I know it, he's unbuttoning my shirt, revealing my chest that's pounding up and down with each breath.

He brings the knife down on the skin directly above my sternum bone, the blade sliding down lightly, breaking it with nothing more than a slight sting. He licks at the blood that oozes from it, my eyes closing as I relish in the sizzling hot slide of it. He sucks lightly, and then pulls away, his eyes nearly black as coal as he stares down at me.

His gaze never leaves mines as his hands come in contact with the waistband of my jeans, his expression almost sadistically seductive as he unzips them and pulls them down over my thighs, down to my ankles. My boxers follow after, and his eyes seemingly _glow_ as he stares down at the bare bottom portion of my body, his callused hands running smoothly up and down the sides of my legs.

He brings the knife down to the inside of my thigh, dangerously close to my throbbing erection, heavy and painful. He carefully slices the skin there, a loud moan leaving my mouth when he leans down and sucks at the resulting blood in long, deep slurps. He does the same to the other thigh, my eyes rolling back in my head and my hands fisting at the carpet beneath us.

"Nick," I whimper, tangling my fingers into his hair and rolling my hips slightly. "Oh _God_, baby."

"Mmm," he moans, pulling back and sensually wiping his hand over his mouth.

I watch as his eyes slowly travel down towards the swollen member standing up long and proud between my legs, and I'm nearly bombarded with desire.

"Yes- oh please, yes!" I exclaim, practically beg as I lift my hips repeatedly off the floor as by encouraging him on. "Do it! Please just do it, Nicky."

His eyebrows rise in astonishment, a wide smile spreading across his face as he leans down towards my ear, his metallic breath ghosting over my skin. "I'll take care of you, Joe."

He kisses at my neck, soft and gentle presses of his lips against my skin, and then suddenly I feel the blade of the pocket knife slice at the thick outer layer of my erection, causing me to cry out in a mixture of pain and _intense_ pleasure.

"Shh," Nick coos, his free hand rubbing soothingly against my hipbone. "Someone might hear you, Joey."

And then, without warning, the knife produces a single cut at the other side, and I have to bit down hard on my lip to keep myself from crying out again. Soon, Nick slides down until he's directly in front of it, examining his marks, his breath _right there_.

A few moments later, I feel his tongue tentatively slide across one of the cuts, a hiss escaping my mouth as I try to stop myself from impaling his mouth with my dick. He sighs and licks at the other side, before unexpectedly taking the whole member in his mouth, a throaty groan escaping his lips from the taste of a mixture of blood and precum and _me_. My head falls back and my mouth jerks open as I moan, not realizing that anything could ever feel this good.

He soon gains rhythmic bobs of slow, hard sucks and his teeth lightly scraping against the sides as he completely covers me in his hot froth. My toes curl in my shoes and my hips slowly rise and fall to meet the weaves of his mouth, my mind going fuzzy and my lungs not seeming to cooperate as I struggle to breathe.

"Nick," I manage to get it, or more of moan. "I gonna…I can't-."

And just like that, I'm there, in the result of a low stamina and the skills of the sex god that is my younger brother. My body trembles and my fingernails squeeze against Nick's skull as he swallows my load, my breath coming out in harsh expanses.

He laps up the dripping blood and seals the wound expertly with his tongue, a wide smile painting his expression as he comes up to stare down at me, his face hovering directly above mines. He pulls some of the sweaty strands of my hair off my forehead, his eyes gazing dreamily into my caramel orbs.

"You taste indescribable," he whispers, his thumb brushing against my cheek. "Better than anything I've ever had before."

I smile lazily, my vision half focused as I clumsy lean up and press my mouth against his, running my tongue lightly over his bottom lip.

"You do, too," I say, after pulling back.

He chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of my neck before lifting me up and helping me slide my clothes back on.

"Careful," he says, when I try to stand up, only stumbling back to the floor. "You're probably light-headed from the blood loss. It should go away in a few minutes, though."

I smirk, wobbly pulling him down beside me, before resting my body over his and smirking down at his flustered form. "But what if I don't want it to go away just yet?"

He smiles a big, toothy grin, the pad of his thumb running over the cut on my shoulder. He leans in and runs his tongue over it, my body quick to respond as I feel sharp chills run down my spine. "Mmm. Touché."

And after that night, Nick never again has the _need_ to drink blood anymore, his response always the same when someone asks him why and his eyes discreetly glancing over at me as he says it. "I finally found something to satisfy the desire."


End file.
